Confessions
by Loyal Subject
Summary: Lydia is beginning to realize her feelings for Beetlejuice after all these years yet she is clearly at odds with herself. She is in love with a dead man after all! One-shot. Lydia older x Beetlejuice.


_So, I finally managed to finish this small one-shot. I came up with this idea so long ago, I don't even remember how it happened exactly other than I was watching Beetlejuice and started watching clips from the animated series. With that being said, this fanfiction is geared more towards the animated series rather than the movie. Most of the information comes from Wikipedia since I didn't exactly have the time to watch all the episodes required (not to mention, a majority of episodes I could not even find). So...enjoy =D. Reviews are encouraged as well as constructive criticism. I had some difficulty with Beetlejuice so please let me know how I did!  
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Confessions **

"Well, I suppose it all began a few years ago when I first moved to Peaceful Pines with my father and step-mother. It was there that I met _him_. We were merely friends at first, for, you see, I was very young. Only twelve, I believe. But he was easily my best friend. I would visit him whenever I could, for whatever occasion I deemed necessary.

He was gross, disturbing, cynical, a con-man: all traits I knew I should have avoided. Yet for some reason I felt as though we completed one another. I had always loved the gothic, haunting concepts he and his world provided for me. It just seemed to fit. _We _seemed to fit.

But we were merely friends. 'Lyds' he always called me, still calls me to this day. 'Lyds' or 'Babes'. Nicknames, if you will; eventually, I came to dislike the term 'Babes', resulting in only 'Lyds' as my nickname. He rarely called me 'Lydia'. The only time I can recall him calling me Lydia was when he thought a sandworm would attack me. I suppose he was worried. Thinking about it now, I should have realized there was something there other than a mere friendship. Perhaps he has had feelings for me beyond friendship this entire time. And I was the ignorant child he couldn't reach...

At one point I discovered he had a shrine dedicated to me in his head. I donated some money to this shrine. I suppose I should have known then he may have had feelings for me other than a simple friendship. Perhaps I did know it but chose to ignore it. Perhaps I did not want to face the truth of the matter. I will never know...

It's funny. I talk about him as being my best friend and possibly more yet I do not even know where he came from. He has mentioned to me being dying years ago but the number always changes. Yet, I have also met his parents. I have seen pictures of his childhood in the Neitherworld. But Bee—he can always transform into nearly anything. Were the pictures I saw in his home merely him transformed as a child? It's strange that I never bothered to ask him these types of questions. Perhaps there is so much more to him than I know. Calling him my best friend now seems like an understatement...

Even though I may not know his origins, it cannot be denied we had a lot in common. We were both outsiders. I suppose that was how I became attracted to him in the first place. Misfits, we were. I went to an all girl's school: _Miss Shannon's __School__ for Girls_. Of course, there was no one there I could really relate to. Just the same, he was never quite accepted in the Neitherworld. In fact, no one really liked him very much. He was too much of a prankster for people to enjoy his company. We were both outsiders. Of course, I felt at home when I visited the Neitherworld. Like I belonged there. Unlike him, everyone appeared to enjoy my company. I feel like it was because of me others would accept him from time to time. But perhaps this is merely my over confidence speaking.

In a way, visiting the Neitherworld was sort of game. I even had a small ritual I would occasionally perform before visiting. 'Though I know I should be wary/ Still I venture some place scary/Ghostly haunting I turn loose/ Bee—' and well...I would then say his name three times. Once I say his name three times, he arrives. Obviously I don't want him here now so I can't say his name at all. He's probably wondering where I am now...

I don't believe I ever found him attractive. His hair was (or rather is) yellow, his teeth rotten from death. His skin is somewhere between decay: a sort of light purple color. The smell of death always surrounded him and it was no surprise considering he always wore the same thing: a black and white striped jacket with matching pants. I don't believe he ever took a bath. Not to mention, his diet is not the most attractive: beetles and other bugs for the most part. And his long nails! I nearly forgot about them: they could easily stab anyone. Though luckily I managed to convince him to trim those...He also has a snake-like tongue as odd as that sounds. So I never found him physically attractive and I'm not entirely sure I ever will.

In fact, there are a lot of things I'm not entirely sure about. I'm not entirely sure how my recently realized affections began. As I said, I never had such feelings for him when we first met. I suppose it began when I was about fifteen. Before that, I did have a small attraction (very small, mind you) attraction to Prince Vince: prince of the Neitherworld. At least, I was when he was not so gloomy. But for the most part, he was merely a friend like Beetlejuice. Only, I began to realize there was something different about Beetlejuice yet I could not put my finger on it. It is only now that I am able to identify this feeling that has been manifesting within me. Yet, there are so many complications with this feeling. It is forbidden almost like one of those sappy love stories. Those types of stories I despise or, at the very least, I enjoy mocking. But it is happening to me at this very instant and I do not know what to do about it. Should I confess these wonderful feelings or simply dismiss them and move on?

Well, this is my story, can you help me doctor?" Lydia Deetz concluded, looking towards the therapist that was currently sitting in a black leather seat across from her. She waited patiently as he appeared to be writing some notes down. Her focus drifted to the pale ceiling as she rested her head against the green couch she was currently laying on. There were numerous dots on each individual block of ceiling. She wondered how long it would take to count them all. If he was taking this long, Lydia feared the worse: perhaps she was going mad.

However, not to Lydia's knowledge, the psychiatrist was merely playing a game of tic-tac-toe with himself: he was winning with two "Os" about to make a diagonal row. He drew a mark through his triumph of three symbols before adjusting his glasses slightly.

"Miss Deetz, I see no problem with your relationship," he answered, his voice monotone. He did not even bother to glance at his patient but instead chose to begin another game of tic-tac-toe. Lydia's head immediately shot up from its current position as she turned to face the doctor, her legs swinging over to the side of the couch so that she was now sitting up.

"What? Were you not listening to me!?" Lydia exclaimed, her voice filled with anger and frustration. If it were possible, flames would be shooting out her eyes and her black hair would be let loose from the hair-tie surrounding it and sent high into the air, turning the office into a fiery pit of hell with Lydia as a vicious devil. Despite Lydia's enragement, the therapist made no sense of response other than he ceased to play his game and stared at her patiently. This made her anger swarm throughout the room. "I'm in love with a dead man doctor!"

"Miss Deetz," the psychiatrist began calmly, removing his glasses, "the problem is not so much your relationship but the fact you mix fantasy with reality."

"What?" Lydia replied, her voice falling flat with complete and utter surprise.

"You are afraid of communicating with others so you instead create a man who is deceased. An imaginary friend, if you will..." the therapist began to explain, his voice unaltered still.

"You think I'm making this up!?" Lydia practically shrieked, forcing herself off of the couch out of sheer rage. "He's real and I can prove it! Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

A sudden gust of wind entered through the nearby window; the room became a dark prison. The doctor jumped out of his chair at this sudden change of setting, shifting uneasily. Lydia, however, was perfectly used to this sort of transition.

"It's show time!" a voice that appeared to come from thin air remarked, his voice clearly hinting at some sort of cynical humor he was about to perform or planning to form. The therapist's legs were beginning to knock into one another as he cowered at the mysterious voice. He did not have to ponder long as to where the voice was coming from for soon enough a strange man clad in a black and white striped jacket with matching pants. The man grinned mischievously down at the therapist.

"Here, could you hold this for me?" the man asked as he placed live, squirming bugs in the psychiatrist's hand. "Thanks." The doctor looked down at the bugs as they began to crawl up his arm in horror. And the man, oh the man was absolutely terrifying! It was as though death was currently surrounding the poor doctor, attempting to bring him down below to his grave! The psychiatrist did not stand a chance: within seconds, he his eyes were shutting and he was falling to the floor. Before Lydia or Beetlejuice had time to react, the therapist had fainted. "What's wrong with him?"

"I believe you scared him," Lydia answered as she stared down at the therapist. Normally, she would be worried about such a thing but because he had refused to believe her about Beetlejuice, she remained indifferent to the situation.

"Oh," was all Beetlejuice said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "I thought I knocked him dead with the bugs." Before she knew it, Beetlejuice's magic was at its best as he fell to the floor with a lily in his hands as if dead. Lydia could not help but to laugh a little at his pun. Within seconds, Beetlejuice was back on his feet. "But I don't understand," Beetlejuice began as he gazed around the room which was once again the office Lydia had been sitting in, "what were you doing here Lyds?"

"Well I—," Lydia began but her words were failing her as she tried to explain the situation. "I had an appointment."

"An appointment for what?" Beetlejuice questioned.

"Well—you see...I...I've been having some confusing feelings lately and I—," Lydia continued to struggle but Beetlejuice only remained more confused. Lydia sighed heavily. "Would you like to go to a movie?" It was painful to ignore the crucial topic yet it was all Lydia could possibly do. She only hoped Beetlejuice did not press her for the matter. His current silence was beginning to make her nervous.

"Sure Lyds. They're playing _Mouse on Haunted Mill_ at the Neitherworld Theater," Beetlejuice offered, ultimately deciding not to pester her for answers. There would be plenty of opportunity for that later on like during the movie: the most inappropriate time.

"Sounds good," Lydia replied, satisfied with their plans. Perhaps there would soon be another time or place for her to confess her current feelings to Beetlejuice. But for now, that confession would remain dormant within her. Together, Lydia and Beetlejuice left the psychiatrist's office with the doctor still passed out on the floor.

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_I do not know how old Lydia is in this story. I suppose she's a late teenager so...18ish? I didn't have a particular age in mind.  
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